


Where the Treetops Glisten

by anastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Holiday Mixtape 2017, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kid Fic, Kid Winchesters, Pre-Series, SPN Holiday Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-12 20:29:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12967803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel
Summary: Christmas for the Winchesters usually isn't very special, but this year Christmas morning brings a heavenly surprise for Sam and Dean.





	Where the Treetops Glisten

**Author's Note:**

> I had such a blast writing this adorable little fic! Special thanks to [Mary](http://sketchydean.tumblr.com/) for the original idea and for creating the CUTEST art I could have dreamed of for this story. 
> 
> Art is embedded within the fic, but you can find the art here as well!

**December 24th, 1989**

“Dean, do you think we’re gonna get snow for Christmas?” Sam asks from where he’s perched on the couch. He’s sitting cross-legged, and looking absently out the window where the sun is just starting to dip past the horizon.

Dean settles down next to him, a can of soda in his hand and follows Sam’s gaze out to a cloudless sky and then turns back to him. “I don’t know.”

He watches Sam’s face fall, and how his brother sighs a sigh too heavy for a six year old and goes back to watching Rudolph on the television.

“But there’s still time, you never know,” Dean adds.

Sam looks over at Dean, eyes sparkling in hopeful excitement. “You think so?”

Dean shrugs, taking a sip of his soda. “Yeah maybe.”

“Is Dad gonna be back?” Sam asks.

Dean sighs and places his can with a slight thunk down on the table in front of him. “You ask too many questions.”

“I hate when he misses Christmas,” Sam mutters.

Dean doesn’t have the heart to tell Sam that Dad won’t even be back before the New Year, so he stays silent and lets the weight of all he knows bear down heavy on his shoulders. It sucks sometimes, having to be the one to make sure everything is alright, to make sure Sam is okay. He doesn’t always mind watching out for him, only sometimes, but he does wish there was a way to get that forlorn near-permanent frown off his little brother’s face. He’s only six, he shouldn’t be sad at Christmas.

Dean looks over at the empty tree sitting next to the TV. It doesn’t even have Christmas lights. Instead, it’s adorned with air fresheners and little candy wrappers tied up with string that glint in the overhead light. There’s no presents, but Dean hopes to change that later on tonight. He’s got a coupla bucks saved up in his wallet, stuff he’s found on the ground or leftover in their hotel rooms. He figures it’s the least he can do, if he can’t make it snow for Sam, he can buy him his favorite candy bar and a few of those really nice apples he saw earlier at the convenience store. Sam will love that, Dean knows so.

He looks back over at Sam, who is now resting his cheek on his palm, and watching - but not really watching - Rudolph, sadness coating his features.

“Hey, you wanna make Christmas cookies?” Dean says, reaching over to nudge Sam’s shoulder with his palm.

“Do we have the stuff?” Sam asks.

“We got some sugar, flour, vanilla, eggs, and ---”

“It’s perfect, Dean,” Sam says with a grin, already starting to get up from the couch and head into the tiny hotel kitchen.

Dean grabs the remote for the TV, turning the volume up so they can hear the movie from in the kitchen and follows.

He watches as Sam eagerly starts to pull ingredients out of the cupboards and the fridge, piling them all onto the small counter. There’s a smile on Sam’s face now, and he may only be temporarily happy, but it’s enough for Dean that he just got him to simply smile for a change.

* * *

Sam’s hands are covered in dough. He wiggles his fingers in the batter, digging them in deeper until he hits the bottom of the bowl and then pulls his hands up until they are covered with thick dough.

“This is fun,” he giggles. He grabs a clump of dough off the top of his hand and starts rolling it into a ball just like Dean showed him and places it neatly in a row with the others onto the cookie sheet.

He looks over at Dean who is rolling his own ball of dough, and just grins.

“Almost done?” Dean asks.

“Yep, then they go in the oven!” Sam says. He places the last dough ball into the center of the sheet, grabs the oven mitts, and carefully places the cookies into the oven.

Sam sets the timer for 20 minutes, then runs back over to the window to peek out into the dark night. He scowls when he sees no precipitation falling from the sky, and instead sees bright stars sparkling high above him.

“I guess I’m gonna go get ready for bed.”

Dean nods and together they stand side by side next to each other at the sink in the bathroom brushing their teeth. Dean spits first and then moves aside for Sam. They wash their faces together, and Dean flicks water at Sam’s face just to make him giggle and do it back.

Dean shoves Sam towards their shared bedroom and lets him change while Dean checks on the cookies. They’re a light golden brown, perfectly cooked, and he takes them out of the oven.

“Cookies are done!”

Sam comes running in from the bedroom, looking all comfy in sweatpants and a t-shirt. He slides across the floor and stutters to a stop at the counter, grinning excitedly at the cookies.

“Can we leave some out for Santa?” Sam asks, look up at Dean.

“Sure, Sammy!”

Sam runs to the cupboard and grabs a small plate. With careful fingers, he takes four of the cookies off the cookie sheet, despite their hot temperature and neatly lays them out on the plate. He fills a small cup full of milk, and sets both down onto the coffee table nearby the tree for Santa.

“It’s ready!”

“Awesome,” Dean says with a soft smile at his excited little brother.

“Sleep now?” Sam asks.

“Yep, let’s hit the hay,” Dean says with a chuckle, ruffling Sam’s hair as they both head into the bedroom.

Sam jumps onto the bed and curls up on his side, burrowing underneath blankets and rolls around on the mattress until he gets comfortable. Dean climbs in next to him a few moments later and Sam rolls over to face him. Sam feels comforted with Dean close, and how he’s able to clearly see his features in the dim neon light of the motel sign outside the window.

“Hey Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“If I pray really hard do ya think maybe it’ll snow tomorrow?”

“We could try,” Dean offers, knowing full well that wishes and prayers don’t do anything. His Dad taught him that from the moment his Mom died. But it doesn’t mean Sam can’t have hope anymore.

“Okay,” Sam says, resolute, “Let’s try.”

He reaches out and grabs Dean’s hands, holding them tight in his tinier ones. He squints his eyes shut as hard as he can, hoping Dean is doing the same.

“God? Or whoever? If you’re up there and you’re listening, I know you don’t probably do this often, but I’ve been a really good kid this year and I don’t get much ya know cause my Dad and Dean, we move around a lot and sometimes it’s really hard... but do you think that... maybe just this once you could make it snow? For me? And for Dean because he’s the best brother ever and I think he deserves to have a happy Christmas too.”

Sam pauses, and then says, “Thanks God. Amen.”

He squeezes Dean’s hands, releasing them and his eyes fly open, to see Dean slowly blinking open his own eyes.

“That was a good one, Sam. I’m sure he heard you.”

Sam smiles softly, settling into the mattress. “Yeah, I hope so.”

* * *

In Heaven, the day before Christmas is a riotous time. Prayers come in from all across the world, wishes for the chance at something better the next day. This year, like all others, the angels are awash with duties, trying to desperately grant prayers.

Castiel watches his siblings flutter around Heaven, rushing to answer as many prayers as possible. Castiel toddles behind them, tiny black wings flapping erratically behind him. He feels sort of helpless amongst all this. He’s too small to help with the big things, curing ailments, stopping a catastrophic storm, etc. And no prayers have come in for anything small, like him. He wants to help the humans, he truly does. He just needs to be given the chance.

Uriel is in the process of answering a young boy’s prayer for his mother to be cured from cancer, when another prayer comes through. Uriel is not listening though, and neither are the angels around him, but Castiel is.

He zeros in on the young boy’s soft voice and finds him in a rundown motel room in western Tennessee. Sam Winchester. He knows this boy, from legends of future told by his brethren. He and his brother will be important some day, but not yet.

_“....maybe just this once you could make it snow? For me? And for Dean because he’s the best brother ever and I think he deserves to have a happy Christmas too.”_

Snow! All Sam wants is a snow, that has to be simple enough. Castiel can certainly do that!

“Uriel,” Castiel says, toddling over and tugging on his older brother’s robe. “I need to go to the clouds.”

Uriel finishes answering his prayer and then looks down at Castiel. “What for?”

“I have to grant a prayer!” Castiel says, wings twitching in excitement.

“Ah, what sort of prayer?”

“Sam Winchester wants snow! I may not be able to do much, but I can make snow.”

“Sam Winchester... hmmm... well alright. Don’t stay gone too long,” Uriel says, patting Castiel’s shoulder.

Castiel nods obediently. He makes a determined face and flaps his wings, heading down from Heaven down towards Earth. It’s the first time he’s been outside of Heaven by himself, and despite being a tad scared all alone, he knows nothing will hurt him here.

Castiel settles himself onto the nearest cloud hovering over Sam and Dean’s motel. He focuses on pooling his grace into the center of him and then in a rush, forces it out towards his hand and gently presses his hand down onto the top of the cloud. As soon as he touches the cloud, a slow stream of flakes start drifting down from the sky. The longer he waits, the harder the showers start to fall. When it’s just enough to coat the ground a soft white, he removes his hand and watches as the snow continues but slows just a little. It’s perfect, Sam will be enchanted.

At the end of Christmas day the snow will stop and by the following morning it will have all melted. But for this one day it will be remain and paint the world in a winter wonderland just as Sam asked for.

Cas should go back to Heaven immediately but he wants to see Sam’s reaction. It means a lot to him what this boy thinks of the granting of his first prayer. So he settles down onto the cloud to wait for daybreak.

* * *

Sam wakes early, just barely after sunrise to a soft white glow filtering in through the curtains covering the windows. He blinks open his eyes, rubbing at them with sleepy fists and sits up. He looks out the window and stifles a gasp. Sam jumps off the edge of the bed and runs to the window. There is snow! Everywhere he looks is covered in a thick blanket of soft white. It’s dusted across the branches of the few trees lining the parking lot. The entire world has been engulfed in a beautiful white softness and Sam can’t wait to go outside. The snow is still coming down from the sky in a shower of quiet large flakes. Sam jumps up and down a few times in excitement, then arches his head up towards the sky, “Thank you,” he whispers to whoever is up there for this wonderful gift.

He may not get his Dad home for Christmas, but at least he gets this wonderland.

Sam rushes over to Dean’s side of the bed and tugs on the sleeve of his brother’s flannel.

“Dean! Wake up, there’s snow!”

Dean grunts, rolling over away from Sam’s needing fingers in his sleep. Sam climbs onto the bed and taps on Dean’s arm until Dean rolls back towards him and blinks open his eyes at Sam.

“What?”

“Snow, Dean!” Sam squeals, pointing outside the window. Dean sits up slightly, rubbing at his eyes and freezes when he sees the winter wonderland outside.

“Whoa,” Dean breathes, fully sitting up and staring in amazement out the window.

“Our prayer was answered!” Sam says.

“It was,” Dean replies, voice full of wonder.

Sam tumbles out of bed and runs to their shared closet grabbing his coat and throwing on his pair of boots. “Let’s go outside!”

Dean follows, a little slower, and tosses a pair of gloves in Sam’s direction. Sam catches them with a shining grin, pulling them on and runs towards the front door.

Sam barrels outside but freezes on the bottom step the moment his toes hit the snow.

“Dean,” Sam breathes, reaching down to scoop up a handful of snow. “It’s beautiful.” He throws it above their heads and giggles as it rains down on the both of them.

Dean ruffles his hair, and bends down next to him, rolling snow up into a snowball and throws it at Sam’s shoulder.

“Snowball fight!” Dean sing-songs, running out into the snowy yard, Sam following close behind him.

They trade hits, with cherry cheeks and glistening smiles. Eventually they both end up collapsed in the snow, heaving for air and giggling.

Up in the clouds Castiel watches the two boys frolic in the snow with a pleased smile on his face. He can feel their joy radiating all the way up to the clouds. It fills him with a sort of warmth he’s never known before.

He watches them a little longer, basking in their happiness before his ears fill with calls from Heaven.

_“Castiel, it is time to return, you’ve dwelled with the humans long enough.”_

He sighs, giving the two young boys one last lingering look, before flapping his little wings and racing back up to Heaven to rejoin his brethren.

* * *

"Hey Sam, wanna make snow angels?” Dean asks, nudging at Sam’s arm with his elbow.

“Yeah, how do you do it?”

“Watch me!” Dean says.

He gets up and jogs to an untouched area of snow and plops down flat onto his back. Sam mimics his movements, flopping down a foot away from Dean. He turns his head to the side and looks at Dean.

“Then you do this,” Dean says, slowly starting to move his arms and legs back and forth in the snow. After a minute or so he stops and carefully stands to his feet, hoping out of his art piece.

“Tada!”

Sam grins, “That’s awesome!” And starts moving his arms and legs back and forth in the snow to make his own angel.

He jumps to his feet, standing next to Dean and together they admire their immaculate snow angels.

Sam looks turns his head to look up at Dean, smiling that sunshine smile of his.

“Hey Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy?”

Sam reaches over to take Dean’s hand and squeezes it tight.

“This is the best Christmas ever.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, grinning as he watches the snow fall gently around them, “It’s a pretty good one.”


End file.
